


i'm almost me again (she's almost you)

by jessicawhitly



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Parallel Universes, Post-Season/Series 03, The Upside Down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19814716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: When he wakes up, it’s sunny, and he’s on something warm and soft.Slowly, he opens his eyes, and takes stock of where he is. It’s a startlingly familiar room, and he frowns when he realizes it’s almost Joyce’s room, but different. It’s brighter; lighter, somehow, and his officer’s uniform is thrown over a chair in the corner, which shouldn’t even be possible. He shifts, looking beside him- there’s an alarm clock that reads 6:43, and beside that a framed photo of…him and Joyce?or, in a last ditch effort to save himself from the machine exploding, Hopper escapes into the Upside Down...and into a parallel universe where everything he knows about his life is turned upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm a sucker for parallel universe aus, specifically "show one half of a pairing a universe where they got it right before sending them back to then deal with that information" and it fit SO well with the theory that Hopper escaped into the Upside Down in the finale that I just...ran with it. Will be a few chapters, though I haven't quite nailed down how many yet. Title is from Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier. Also a note- the dynamics other than Joyce/Hopper won't appear until later chapters, but they will come in eventually!

Joyce’s face stays in his mind as he turns away from the windows, and dashes towards his last hope.

The rip in the wall is glowing orange, and he doesn’t give himself time to think about anything as he dives through it, holding his breath. The picture of Joyce’s face, coated with anguish, is all he allows himself to focus on as he sinks into the oblivion of the other side. He closes his eyes as the hues of orange turn to blue and purple, shivering as the temperature rapidly shifts from hot to cold.

Joyce’s eyes are the last thing he thinks about before blackness overtakes him.

_

When he wakes up, it’s sunny, and he’s on something warm and soft.

Slowly, he opens his eyes, and takes stock of where he is. It’s a startlingly familiar room, and he frowns when he realizes it’s almost Joyce’s room, but different. It’s brighter; lighter, somehow, and his officer’s uniform is thrown over a chair in the corner, which shouldn’t even be possible. He shifts, looking beside him- there’s an alarm clock that reads 6:43, and beside that a framed photo of…him and Joyce?

He picks it up, and stares at the image. It’s unfamiliar- there’s a lake in the background, and they’re younger, somehow in their mid-twenties if he had to guess. Rings glint with sunlight off their fingers, and there’s a roundness to Joyce’s waistline that the Hopper in the photo can’t help but cup protectively in his palm, grinning at the camera as the Joyce in the photo looks up at him with sparkling eyes and a happy, carefree smile of her own.

Glancing down, that same wedding ring encircles his left ring finger, and he brings it up to his face, studying it. It’s clearly been there awhile, if the tan line is any indication, and Hopper has to swallow around the thickness in his throat as he places the photo back on the nightstand. On a second glance around the room, he realizes now that’s it’s a shared space- half the vanity has female products, and a glass jewelry dish, and when he ducks his head into the adjoining bathroom, it’s a mix of his and hers things.

Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, he puts his head in his hands, and tries desperately to understand what’s happening, and where he even _is_.

Clearly, the Upside Down had taken him somewhere else, because this wasn’t any world like the one he’d left. Not one where he hadn’t fucked things up Joyce and they’d stayed together and…built a life, apparently?

“Oh good, you’re up already. You hungry this morning or just want coffee?” he looks up at the voice, and there she is, standing in front of him.

Joyce’s face is just like he remembers, but there are a few less worry lines around the corners and her hair is longer, just past her shoulders. Her smile is soft, lips smeared with a reddish hue that sets off something low in his gut, and she’s dressed in a pair of blue scrubs, white t-shirt sleeves sticking out with an ID badge for Hawkins General clipped to the front pocket. He can see _Joyce Hopper_ printed on it clear as day, and it’s a struggle to answer her simple question when his eyes catch the rings on her fingers- not the ones Lonnie had given her before he’d pawned them off. But ones Hopper himself remembers looking at at the only good jeweler in town, weeks before graduation.

“Just coffee,” he finally gets out, voice sticking in his throat, and she nods as she reaches up to tie her hair back into a messy ponytail.

“You better get a move on, sweetheart, or Callahan’ll win this week’s bet again,” she teases, winking at him over her shoulder before she heads further down the hall and leaves him alone once more.

_Nothing_ makes sense, but Hopper goes through the motions of showering and dressing in the familiar uniform- it’s pathetic to admit that it’s the first time in a while he’s taken a shower without a cigarette waiting for him in an ashtray and a beer by his bed, but his body isn’t buzzing with the need for nicotine like usual.

Joyce is buzzing around the kitchen when he enters, and he takes a second to just watch her. So much about her is familiar- the scent of her shampoo is still lingering in the air, mixing with the aroma of coffee and bacon, and it isn’t until he sees the top half of the box of Eggos in the trash that he realizes he hasn’t seen any of the kids.

“Where’re El and the boys?” he asks, panic sweeping in, and Joyce frowns, lifting a hand to his forehead. The press of her ring against his skin is cool in comparison to her warm palm, and he can’t help the way he leans into it slightly, starved for the affectionate touch.

“Boys? Are you feeling alright? Cass and Steph are already on the school bus- and say it with me now, _you_ are picking Cass up from dance tonight, not me, I’m taking Steph to get a new pair of sneakers in Elmdale after work. Okay?” Joyce says, taking her hand away and patting his cheek gently before going back to packing things into a brown bag. “If I put an apple in here will you actually eat it today or will it sit on your desk for a week before Flo throws it out again?”

Hopper’s heart sits somewhere in his throat as he takes stock of what Joyce has just placed in front of him. No El. No Jonathan. No Will. But two girls- this Cass and Steph; two foreign concepts, but clearly two beings he and Joyce had made together in whatever world he’d been spat out into. Loss and love war within his chest, and he swallows heavily as Joyce finally looks up at him when the silence becomes prolonged.

“Guess I can try to swallow it down,” he offers, and Joyce’s nose crinkles as she laughs, popping the red fruit into the bag.

“There’s a trooper,” she replies, rolling the top of the bag and handing it to him. His thermos is next, and the feeling of a practiced routine settles over him. This happened every morning, to the point where there was a muscle memory, and an off sort of ache bloomed within him.

He takes both with a smile, receiving one in return, and turns to head for the door, keys sliding off the hook and onto his finger.

“I think you forgot something, Chief,” Joyce says from behind him, and he turns around, lifting an eyebrow. She’s got her hands on her hips, a smirk playing around her mouth as she looks at him, so much fondness plain in her face it’s like a punch in his gut.

“And what’s that?” he asks, watching her walk towards him until she can smooth her palms up his chest, toying with the collar of his uniform.

“My goodbye kiss,” she answers before she tugs him down to her level, their mouths meeting in a firm, warm kiss. The hand not holding his coffee falls to her waist on instinct, hugging her against him briefly, and he can’t help the way his eyes shut for a moment at the perfect feeling of her against him; of knowing, somehow, he had this every single morning. They pull apart, and he can’t help but steal one more kiss before he straightens up, Joyce taking the time to straighten his now-tilted collar.

“Have I forgotten anything else?” he asks, voice slightly breathless, and she’s quick to shake her head, lips quirking slightly.

“No, I think you’re all set now,” she replies, taking a step back. “Have a good day, sweetheart. Love you.”

He tips his head towards her, unable to summon the words back before he’s out the door, slamming the Blazer door shut behind him. He takes a deep breath, trying to focus the myriad of thoughts spiraling through his brain as he starts the truck up, backing out of the driveway and turning towards town.

His world feels upside down and inside out, even though everything looks so similar. Main Street looks the same- same shops, same people- and when he pulls into his spot at the station, nothing looks different.

“Morning Chief,” Flo greets him, and he tips his hat, thermos in one hand and lunch from Joyce in the other. “That nurse wife of yours shove another apple on ya?”

He snorts in answer, and something twists in his chest. Joyce, a nurse. It suits her, and somehow she’d had the opportunity to do more than sit behind the counter at Melvald’s General Store for 18 years in whatever world he was in.

He unlocks his office, and even _that_ feels different- there’s no burst of tobacco-scented air when he pushes the door open, and it’s cleaner than he’s ever seen it. He sits heavily in the chair, and his eyes gravitate instantly to the framed photo in the corner. Hopper’s heart constricts at the family photo, and he can’t help the way his hands shake as he picks it up to examine it further.

The two girls are so blatantly his and Joyce’s something inside his chest audibly cracks. The older one has dark hair and is all Joyce’s features except for his bright blue eyes, while the younger one is all his coloring with Joyce’s nose. It’s a cheesy Christmas photo, but he’s never seen himself look so god damn thrilled to have on an ugly, itchy sweater in his entire life.

Hopper needs to understand- needs to know what happened here to make this life turn out so different that this is where they’d ended up. He grabs his keys and heads back out, tossing a “Goin’ for a cruise” over his shoulder at Flo, and heads back to the house, hoping that Joyce had left for her shift already.

The driveway is thankfully empty when he pulls up to the house, and he takes the time to fully look at the building as he parks. It’s nicely kept, with flowers in the front and a garden along the side, a hand painted sign that proclaims it as “Stephanie’s Garden” stuck proudly in the soil. There are two bikes tucked just inside the garage, pink and orange, and he can see two pairs of roller skates not far away.

Inside, he takes the time to look at the pictures on the walls- there’s a litany of baby pictures that follow two girls as they grow from infants to toddlers to little girls with gap teeth and wild hair. In each other, Joyce or himself are there, holding them or laughing or simply smiling, and there’s so much love and life in each frame it’s like a physical weight on his shoulders as he follows the progression of their lives. Lives he had no memory of, despite being thrown into this world and body and _existence_ thanks to the Upside Down.

He stops when he finds the wedding photo.

Joyce is singlehandedly the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and the sight of her in a white dress she’d chosen to marry him in sends his heart into overdrive. There’s a formal one, with their bridal party and long faces, but then beside it is a candid one of them on the dance floor, Joyce’s hands on his face and his around her waist, and the sight of it takes his breath away.

A glutton for punishment, it takes him almost no time to find the stash of home videos, and in turn the wedding video. It’s shoddy camera work, and from the voice in the background, he has Ted Wheeler to thank for that, but every moment the camera is on Joyce, she’s beaming. It’s god damn breathtaking, and he fast-forwards until he finds the toasts, abruptly pressing play.

“-‘ve never been so grateful as am I for the day I realized I couldn’t watch you go off to war and not come home to me,” he listens to her tinny voice say over the recording, and Hopper’s stomach bottoms out. So that was it- the difference in this universe. He’d gone to war, sure, but in the end he’d come home to Joyce. It hadn’t been the fight that had pushed her into Byers’ arms, like it had back home.

He watches silently as the video continues, more toasts falling on deaf ears- all he can see is the Joyce and Hopper in the video, happy and in love and married. It’s his face, and her face, but it isn’t _him_ and it isn’t _her_.

Why had the Upside Down taken him here? And more importantly- how was he ever going to get back home?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wastes most of his day- flips through photo albums and finds a family trip to Disney when the girls look to be about 7 and 11, along with dozens of beach vacations and more cheesy photos than he can comprehend. It’s some dream life he had only allowed himself to think about in the dead of night, when he was alone and contemplative and regretful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Thank you so much for such a wonderful and enthusiastic response to this story! I'm so sorry for the vast wait for this chapter- it gave me significantly more grief than I anticipated, I couldn't quite get what was in my head onto the page. I'm kind of...using the Upside Down for my own purposes with this fic, including time manipulation, which is to say time passes differently in the Upside Down than it does in the real world. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, and hopefully next chapter will be up sooner than this one was!

He should probably stop watching all the home movies.

It’s not his life- it’s a version of him sure, it’s his face and his voice and his laugh- but it’s like watching a stranger live out a fantasy. Years pass as he skims over dozens of tapes- he clearly doesn’t ever go to New York, simply rises through the ranks of Hawkins PD easily. He watches videos of two little girls go from babies to toddlers to children to teenagers, and there’s the oddest twinge at the base of his skull as he watches.

He wastes most of his day- flips through photo albums and finds a family trip to Disney when the girls look to be about 7 and 11, along with dozens of beach vacations and more cheesy photos than he can comprehend. It’s some dream life he had only allowed himself to think about in the dead of night, when he was alone and contemplative and regretful.

“But no El. No Jonathan. No Will,” he whispers, reminding himself. This life was a dream- but it wasn’t his. Not anymore. Not since he was 18 and he’d ridden off to war, leaving behind the girl and the picture-perfect life he’d landed in.

He didn’t know how to get home- didn’t even know where home _was_ \- so he makes the decision that’s easiest. He’ll live the lie- live this beautiful, bittersweet lie- until he can find his way home to his family. The family he’d found and made through tragedy and blood and sweat and tears.

So at 5:28, Hopper pulls into Harmony Dance Studio’s parking lot after spending the rest of the day going through the motions of police work, and takes a deep breath before getting out of the Blazer and heading towards the door.

The dance studio is relatively small, and he takes his hat off as he steps through the doorway- inexplicably, he knows to step off to the left, where there’s a group of parents already waiting. A few of them nod at him, and he returns the gesture, shifting his weight from foot to foot, until the door in the back corner opens, and a stream of girls floods out.

“Daddy!” he barely has time to prepare himself for the blonde blur that launches itself at him, and his arms instinctively wrap around the slim body, holding it to him. She’s tiny and warm and her blonde hair is pulled back into a ballerina bun, but it’s messy; curly and frizzy like Joyce’s tended to get at the end of a long day. She can’t be more than 14- close to Will’s age, if Hopper had to guess. Cass, his brain supplies.

“Hey, short stuff,” he says, the nickname flowing out of who knows where, but when the kid pulls back to look up at him, she’s beaming.

“Can we go to the diner for dinner? Since Mama and Steph aren’t home? Pleeeease?” she asks, sticking her lower lip out, and there’s something so _Joyce_ about her face it’s like a punch in the gut.

“What? My cooking not up to snuff?” he teases, and Cass’s face scrunches up.

“We had cereal for breakfast, Dad,” she tells him, and he lets out a laugh, tapping her cheek.

“Alright, fine. Diner it is,” he tells her, and she sticks her hand in the air, mock-cheering. “Go put your shoes on, kid.”

She rushes off, grabbing a pair of sneakers and stuffing her feet in them before waving to a group of girls and then returning to his side, hand slipping into his before she looks up at him expectantly. Hopper shakes himself, swallowing hard, and lets Cass tug him towards the blazer, only dropping his hand to climb into the front seat. She fiddles with the radio once he gets it on, settling on some hip garbage that makes his ears want to bleed, but she sings along at the top of her lungs, and the center of his chest burns so hot it feels molten.

Hopper parks at the diner, and when they walk through together, picking a booth in the center, everyone greets Cass fondly. It’s all familiar faces, though most of them are significantly less judgmental towards him than back home.

It’s still Ruth behind the counter, and she gives him a nod and a smile as he and Cass settle in the booth.

“Want a cup of coffee, Chief?” she calls, and he lifts a hand, nodding. “Coke, Cassie girl?”

“Yes please Miss Ruth!” she replies back, beaming, and swings her feet as she tugs her hair down from what’s left of her bun, the hair falling in messy, kinked ringlets around her ears.

Coffee and coke appear before them moments later, and Ruth taps Cassie on the head fondly, beaming.

“Where’s that pretty wife of yours, Jim?” Ruth asks, wiping off the table next to theirs and waving at the couple walking in the door.

“In Elmdale,” he answers, and Ruth hums.

“I’m assuming the usual? Been near four decades and you haven’t changed,” she teases, and Hopper lets out a soft chuckle before he nods in affirmation. “And you, Cass?”

“Grilled cheese and fries, please! And can I get an extra pickle?” Cass asks after a moment of deliberation, and Ruth nods, sending her a wink.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” she taps their table lightly, and then heads back to the kitchen, shouting their orders through the window.

“So, how was school?” Hopper asks, and Cass takes a sip of her soda before she starts talking.

“We took a quiz in math,” she informs him, and he listens intently, captivated by the expressions that cross her face as she speaks. All of Joyce’s mannerisms are etched into her tiny face, and warmth pools in his chest as he laughs along to her story about something Max Mayfield had done at lunch; it soothes him, to know that in any universe, his daughter had the fiery redhead by her side.

Ruth brings over their dinners- his usual turns out to be a burger, medium rare, with two thick slabs of bacon and all the regular fixings. It’s easily one of the best things he’s ever tasted, and it disappears in a blink, along with Cass’s sandwich. He pops a fry in his mouth, and is thinking about if he has room for dessert when his tablemate’s face lights up.

“Mama!” Cass exclaims excitedly, and Hopper turns his head, surprised to find Joyce and the other girl from the photo- Steph, his memory reminds him- heading towards them.

“Hey, baby,” she says, sliding into Hopper’s side of the booth while Steph climbs in beside her sister, stealing one of her fries. “We got home and found nobody so we figured we’d find you here.”

Hopper rolls his eyes, and Joyce pats his chest, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth before settling against his side.

“Can I get a milkshake?” Steph asks, and Joyce nods. “You want a slice of pie? I saw peach when we walked in.”

“Why not? I’m sure we can polish it off between the four of us,” she answers, and Cass giggles. “How was dance, sweetie?”

“Good. Our recital is next month. Kelly is doing the solo,” Cass’s face scrunches up, and Hopper fights to keep the smile off his face. “She’s not even any _good._ ”

“Hey, let’s be nice,” Joyce warns, lifting an eyebrow, and Cass folds her arms over the table, sinking her chin onto them. Steph returns, and places the strawberry milkshake in front of her sister first before settling herself behind a chocolate one.

“I know it’s your favorite,” she says, shrugging, and Cass throws her arms around the older girl. “Alright, alright, just take a drink of the milkshake before I take it away.”

Joyce settles her head on Hopper’s shoulder, taking a bite of pie, and then drops one hand to his lap, settled against his thigh. The domesticity threatens to choke him, but the unfamiliarity is softened by the warmth of her hand and the brightness of their laughter and nothing about this is his life but he _wants_ it, suddenly- so much it’s nearly suffocating.

“Can I ride home with Dad?” Steph asks as they exit the diner a little while later, and Joyce lifts an eyebrow dramatically.

“So no one wants to ride home with Mom? I see how it is,” she teases, and Hopper wraps his arm around her shoulders, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“If I didn’t have to drive…” he trails off with a smirk, and she shoves at him, letting out a laugh.

“Race ya home, Chief,” Joyce says with a wink before she sinks into her car.

“Come on Dad, she can’t _win_!” Cass cried, and Hopper shakes his head in amusement, climbing into the Blazer as Steph and Cass both slam their own doors shut.

“Buckled?” he asks, waiting for the chorus of “yes, Dad!” before he backs out of the space, even as Cass lets out a whined “Daaad, Mom’s already at the next light!”. “Well Mom didn’t have to wait for you slowpokes, now, did she?”

The blonde teenager sticks her tongue out at him, and before he even makes it to the light he’s thinking about the shortcut he could take if he takes Birch and avoids the network of lights all together. It’s not the part of town he usually cruises- where the house with Joyce and the girls is located is practically opposite where he and Joyce had grown up, closer to the Wheelers and Sinclairs than his granddad’s cabin and the Byers’ residence.

But he supposes this life had afforded them the ability to situate themselves in a different sort of neighborhood from where they’d grown up; the kind of place they’d fantasized about together sprawled out in the back of his truck, covered by a blanket and tracing patterns into what patches of skin they could find.

“There’s no way Dad’s winning tonight,” Steph says with a lifted eyebrow, and Hopper challenges her with a raised eyebrow of his own.

“No faith in your old man,” he chides, pressing his foot on the gas a little harder and making a vaguely illegal roll through a stop sign that has Steph’s eyebrow arching higher in a way that Joyce would be proud of. “I’ll write myself a ticket later. Cross my heart.”

Steph snorts at that, rolling her eyes, and Hopper grins.

The radio gets turned to that same, garbage pop station from earlier, but it hurts his ears a little less- Steph and Cass sing along as he cruises down the half-familiar, streetlamp-lit roads. Steph drums out a solo on the dashboard, Cass encouraging her from the backseat, and they both cheer obnoxiously when he manages to pull in a full three seconds before Joyce.

“And Dad pulls out the win at the last second!” Steph proclaims, climbing out of the Blazer and teasing her mother, who rolls her eyes as she gets out of her own car.

“Yeah, yeah, lay it on me,” she spreads her arms, eyes rolled to the sky; Cass and Steph both press themselves into her sides, kissing her cheeks simultaneously.

“You win every day because you got us for daughters, Mom, duh,” Cass tells her, and Joyce crinkles her nose, but presses her lips to her forehead. She shoves at them both lightly, directing them towards the house.

“Alright- homework time, girls,” Joyce says, throwing them meaningful glances- Steph and Cass both groan, but both sling their bags over their shoulders and trudge into the house. She turns to Hopper, palms sliding up his chest until she can tug at his collar. “You cheated.”

Hopper’s lips curl into a smirk as his hands fall to her hips, squeezing gently.

“When have we ever fought fair, sweetheart?” he teases, and Joyce tugs him down until she can press their mouths together, lips quirking up into a smile against his. The front porch light flickers, and Joyce snorts.

“Cass really thinks she’s funny with that, huh,” she comments, shaking her head with affection clear on her face. She pokes a finger into Hopper’s chest, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “She gets it from you, you know.”

“From me? I don’t think so, babe,” he says, slinging his arm around her shoulders as they head up the stairs. Joyce elbows him in the gut, pushing the door open and toeing off her shoes, hanging her purse on the hook and tossing her keys into the dish. Hopper follows suit after locking up; the girls are bent over the table, scribbling away at what he can assume is homework, and he follows Joyce down the hall to change out of his uniform.

She’s already pulling her scrub top over her head, but it gets caught in her t-shirt underneath half-way; Hopper skims his palms up her sides, helping her tug the shirt over her head. She hums in thanks, knuckles dragging down his torso invitingly before tossing her clothes in the hamper and moving around the room in only her bra and scrub pants, a dizzying amount of pale skin on display.

Conflict wells in his chest- it’s one thing to kiss her. It’s another thing to have this- all this possibility laid out before him when he’d stepped through a gate less than an hour after agreeing to go on a date with Joyce if they got out of the mess they’d found themselves in the middle of. He is still a stranger borrowing someone else’s life, so he swallows hard and unpins his badge, setting it on the dresser.

“Don’t start my favorite part without me,” he looks up at Joyce’s voice, and something tugs low in his gut at the sight of her with her dark hair up in a messy knot on the top of her head, wrapped in one of his flannel shirts that was fighting valiantly to fall off of her left shoulder. She pads over to him and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, tugging the khaki fabric out of his pants before she pushed it from his shoulders, allowing it to flutter to the floor.

Joyce bites her lip, looking up at him with a fond, affectionate little nose crinkle, palms smoothing up his undershirt-clad chest, and he lowers himself until he can kiss her. The sigh of relief that leaves him seems to settle something inside him, and Joyce’s arms wrap around his neck, pressing herself against him.

“Steph already said she needs help with something for a school project, we better get out there,” Joyce murmurs, barely separating from him as his thumbs rub at her hips, nose brushing against hers softly. “And Cass needs brownies for the bake sale tomorrow.”

“Game’s on tonight too,” he murmurs, barely pausing to think about why he has that knowledge readily available. Joyce pulls back, smoothing his hair out of his face.

“Mom, I need you!” Cass calls from the kitchen, and Joyce gives him a knowing look.

“Be right there!” she calls back, and pats his chest once more. “I’ll put your uniform in the wash, bring it out with you.”

Hopper nods, and watches her disappear out the doorway, heart thumping painfully in his chest for a moment.

He takes a minute to collect himself; remember his plan; to remember El, Jonathan, and Will- to remember home. It feels fuzzy, like waking up from a long nap, and he rubs at the back of his neck, trying to sharpen the images in his mind. It’s like trying to tune a radio and only finding static, so he changes his clothes and heads back to the kitchen, where Steph and Joyce are talking about something biology-related, and Cass is deep in an English assignment.

While he settles on the couch, the television on, his attention is on the three in the kitchen. Cass cracks a joke, leaving the three of them in near tears from laughing, and Hopper can’t help but ache from how happy he feels. Like all the empty space he’d kept inside for so long was suddenly filled; stretched and worn out, suddenly filled to the brim with light and love and laughter, sugar-sweet and soft.

Somehow, his eyes close without his consent, and in the midst of his dream is an achingly familiar face- big brown eyes and dark curls that seemed longer than the last time he’d seen her- was it only yesterday?

“Dad. Dad- _Dad!?_ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has every Thursday to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends! I...absolutely 100% did not mean to go almost seven months not updating this fic so that is my bad, but I kind of wrote myself into a corner and then hardcore struggled to write myself out of it. But I finally did! This chapter is a bit of a short filler, but it was necessary to get back on track, and hopefully is...kind of worth the wait! I officially make no promises about update speed, especially as I'm still working a lot currently since I'm in the healthcare field, but I can promise I will finish this fic! Please let me know what you think :)

She has every Thursday to herself.

Will has Math League. Jonathan worked after school. Joyce did her doubles on Thursdays. So El took the bus by herself to their small three bedroom home in northern Kentucky, and tried to find a way to block out the _quiet_.

They’d left Hawkins nearly two months ago, and life had found a way to fall into a routine. Christmas had come and gone; 1985 had dawned with a dusting of snow and little fanfare in the Byers new household. Their new high school was just like their old one, just with less familiar faces- El struggled with the work, and had been stuck in mostly remedial classes. Joyce spent most nights working with her until she understood the material, and by the end of the year they’d estimated that she’d be caught up with the rest of her grade.

That Thursday it was drizzling; the bus splashed icy water against the back of her boots as she trudged up the driveway, shivering against the gust of wind that blew under her jacket.

After locking the door behind her and ditching her backpack at the kitchen table, El pours herself a glass of juice, drinks it all, and leaves the cup in the sink before moving into the small bedroom at the end of the hall on the left that was hers.

She closes the door softly behind her, and then sits on her bed. The silence seems to thrum around her; she hates it, hates the quiet, hates the way it makes her miss the way things used to be, and how nothing used to be _quiet_ in her life.

Something feels different today; El can’t put her finger on it, and she frowns as she ties the bandana around her eyes, darkening her senses. So far, she hadn’t been able to find the Void again- hadn’t been able to use any of her powers. It made her feel weak; made her feel vulnerable.

Clenching her eyes shut, all she sees is the inside of her eyelids, and a huff of frustration leaves her mouth. Her nails bite into her palms, and El tries to use the pain to focus herself, but all she sees is black.

Yanking the blindfold off, El fights against the burn of tears that suddenly pricks the backs of her eyes, rubbing at them with the heels of her hands. Disappointment wells in her, and she brings her knees up to her chest, sniffling slightly as she shut her eyes again, swallowing heavily.

By the time Will and Jonathan arrived home, El was settled at the kitchen table, struggling her way through math homework, no trace of her earlier upset left on her face.

“Hey, El,” Will offers her a bright smile, setting his backpack next to her, peering over her shoulder. “Do you want some help?”

“Thanks, Will,” El nods, returning the smile Jonathan gives her. “Can we get pizza today?”

“Mom _is_ working late tonight,” Will looked at Jonathan eagerly, and the teenager rolled his eyes, amused.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. If she asks, though, you pressured me- got it?” he asked, and the younger kids nodded, grinning.

While Jonathan ordered the pizza, Will helped El with the assignment, explaining some of the things she’d been struggling with until it became easier for her to understand in the end. By the time dinner arrived, she’d finished and even started on her history homework, which came significantly easier to her.

Jonathan told them about some of the pictures he’d developed at work while they ate, while Will talked about some of the kids he’d met at Math League who’d invited him to see a movie on Saturday- El was welcome to come, as they knew she was his sister (an easy lie they’d fallen into at school, and hadn’t bothered to correct anyone about. It felt good, to call Will her brother.). She told him she’d let him know what she decided later.

El is the only one awake by the time Joyce finally gets home from work- she has the television on low, and she perks up at the sound of Joyce’s keys dropping into the dish by the door.

“Hey, baby,” Joyce’s voice is tired, and she blows her overgrown bangs out of her face, offering a small smile before she plops down beside her. El snuggles into her side, feeling Joyce drop a kiss to the top of her head as she wrapped an arm around her.

“How was work?” El asked, and Joyce hummed out a quiet laugh against her hair.

“It was work,” was her answer, and she rubbed El’s upper arm gently. “It’s getting late, sweetheart. Thank you for staying up for me, but you should get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” El says softly, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes, sleep tugging at her. “Goodnight, Joyce.”

“Goodnight, El,” Joyce echoed, watching her go with soft, worried eyes, hands knotting together in her lap.

* * *

He looks almost the same- it’s Hopper, it’s her dad, but something about him is different; softer than she’s used to. Her heart rises to her throat, and El can’t make any words form as she reaches a hand out through the darkness of the Void, feeling herself falling through the vastness.

She can feel him starting to slip away, and she reaches inside her for words- for anything to get him to see her, to get his attention. Struggling through the thickness in her throat, El finally shouts out, the words echoing around her.

“Dad. Dad- _Dad!?_ ” finally, his eyes lift to her, connecting for a brief moment as recognition flairs- but then pain flairs through her, and El’s eyes snap shut.

She wrenches herself out of the dream, lifting a hand to her face at the feeling of something wet dripping- when she pulls it away, blood is coating the tips of her fingers, and she coughs, nose thick with the smell of iron. The light flicks on suddenly, and Joyce is in the doorway, eyes wide with concern.

“El, honey- are you okay? What’s going on?” she gathers the teenager up into her arms as she kneels on the bed, dabbing at the blood that’s started to mix with the tears sliding down El’s cheeks, and El shudders out a sob.

“We have to go back,” she says, voice thick, and Joyce’s eyebrows knit together.

“Go back? Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”

“We have to go back, he needs us,” El repeats, stubborn, and sits up slightly, clutching at Joyce’s hands. “Dad. Dad needs us.”

Emotions flicker through Joyce’s eyes lightning fast, and she pulls back slightly.

“Baby…” she starts, and El grips her hands tighter.

“Mama. Do you trust me?” she whispers, desperation leaking into her voice as new tears prick her eyes. She’d give anything to be able to show Joyce the image in her head, but the resurgence of her powers still feels so weak- like she only barely has enough energy to lift a finger, she’s so drained, and she sags against Joyce slightly, blinking heavily.

“Of course I trust you, El,” Joyce finally answers softly, stroking her hair out of her face. “But honey, your dad-”

“I saw him. In the Void,” El interrupts her, and Joyce blinks, eyes going wide as shock flickers across her face.

“But- your powers-” she starts, and El closes her eyes, summoning every last bit of strength she has left- every bit of misery she’s felt over the last few months, all the hope she’d felt at seeing Hopper’s face once more; the sadness Joyce couldn’t quite hide from her- and focuses on the glass of water she’d brought with her to bed that was sitting on her bedside table.

The only sounds that come next are the glass shattering as it falls to the floor, and Joyce’s soft gasp of realization.


End file.
